Flying On the Wings of Nostalgia
FLYING ON THE WINGS OF NOSTALGIA
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
the flushing meadows in spring are flooded in color,
the waves of morning mist rise from orchid valley floor,
grazing the emerald hill-slope to the azure sky they soar.
Drifting in time from my mooring far away
with the painted memory not yet gray
I want to fly on the wings of nostalgia
to the land raised high in the Himalaya.
The cascading brooks flow out of the snout of glaciers,
the rhythm of their dance mountain’s swirling air shares.
Along the chiseled contour as silver strips they meander
in the lofty and terraced terrain where I used to wander.
Drifting in time from my mooring far away
with the painted memory not yet gray
I want to fly on the wings of nostalgia
to the land raised high in the Himalaya.
Rows of rugged ridges merge in the horizon with the sky
where the charcoal clouds gather, with wild wind they fly
over the ever-green pine forest and melt there in torrent,
the music of rain reaches the crescendo at each moment.
Drifting in time from my mooring far away
with the painted memory not yet gray
I want to fly on the wings of nostalgia
to the land raised high in the Himalaya.
Piercing the rain-washed sky beneath the arc of rainbow
the high peaks glow as the setting sun gleams on snow.
With the moon beams silver dust falls in divine serenity
I know the land where nature blooms in astral beauty.
I want to fly on the wings of nostalgia
to the land raised high in the Himalaya.
July 12, 2018
Contest : Pretty Poem Please
Sponsored by : Julia Ward
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
